IN PRAISE OF THE PAPAW
Properties varied and approaching the magical have been ascribed to one
of the commonest plants of North Queensland; and yet how trivial and
prosaic are the honours bestowed upon it. That which makes women
beautiful for ever; which renews the strength of man; which is a sweet
and excellent food, and which provides medicine for various ills, cannot
be said to lack many of the attributes of the elixir of life, and is
surely entitled to a special paean in a land languishing for population.
Distinctive and significant as the virtues possessed by the papaw are,
yet because of its universality and because it yields its fruits with
little labour, it gets but scant courtesy. It is tolerated merely; but
if we had it not, if it were as far as that vast shore washed by the
farthest sea, men would adventure for such merchandise--and adventure at
the bidding of women. How few there are who recognise in the everyday
papaw one of the most estimable gifts of kindly Nature?
Some who dwell in temperate climes claim for the apple and the onion
superlative qualities. In the papaw the excellences of both are blended
and combined. The onion may induce to slumber, but the sleep it produces
is it not a trifle too balmy? The moral life and high standard of
statesmanship of an American Senator are cited as examples of the
refining influences of apples. For every day for thirty years he has, to
the exclusion of all other food, lunched on that fruit. Possibly the
papaw may be decadent in respect to morals and politics. The grape,
lemon, orange, pomelo, and the strawberry, each in the estimation of
special enthusiasts, is proclaimed the panacea for many of the ills of
life. One writer cites cases in which maniacs have been restored to
reason by the exclusive use of cherries. The apple, they say, too,
gives to the face of the fair ruddiness, but the tint is it not
too bold, compared with maiden blush which bepaints the cheek of
the beauty who rightly understands the use of the vital principle
of the papaw? Those who have complexions to retain or restore let
them understand and be fair.
In North Queensland the plant grows everywhere. In the dry, buoyant
climate west of the coast range, and in the steamy coastal tract, on
cliff-like hill-sides, on sandy beaches a few feet above high-water
mark, among rocks with but a few inches of soil, and where the decayed
vegetation of generations has made fat mould many feet deep, the papaw
flourishes. It asks foothold, heat, light and moisture, and given these
conditions a plant within a few months of its first start in life will
begin to provide food--entertaining, refreshing, salubrious--and will
continue so to do for years. Its precociousness is so great and its
productiveness so lavish, that by the time other trees flaunt their
first blossoms, the papaw has worn itself out, and is dying of senile
decay, leaving, however, numerous posterity. The fruit is delicate, too,
and soon resolves itself into its original elements. Pears and peaches
are said by the artistic to enjoy but a brief half hour of absolute
perfection. The artist alone knows the interval between immaturity and
deterioration. The refined and delicate perception of the exquisite and
transient aroma and flavour of fruits deserves to be classed among the
fine arts. Some people are endowed with nice discrimination. They are of
the order of the genius. The higher the poetic instinct, generally the
better qualified the individual to detect and enjoy the fugitive
excellences which fruits possess. Can a gourmand ever properly
appreciate rare and fragile flavours? Though he may be a great artist in
edible discords--things rank and gross and startling--can he in the
quantity of inconvenient food he consumes, be expected to pose as a
critic of the most etherealised branch of epicureanism? The true eater
of fruit is of a school apart, not to be classed with the individual
who, because of the rites and observances of the table, accepts,
in no exalted spirit, a portion of fruit at the nether end of a
feast. He is one who has attained, or to whom has been vouchsafed,
a poignant sense of all that does the least violence to the sense
of taste and smell; but, moreover, who is capable of discovering
edification in things as diverse as the loud jack fruit and the subtle
mangosteen--who can appreciate each according to its special
characteristics, just as a lover of music finds gratification of a
varied nature in the grand harmonies of a Gregorian Chant and in the
tender cadences of a song of Sullivan's. Are those who have sensitive
and correct palates for fruit not to be credited with art and
exactitude, as well as critics of music and painting and statuary, and
connoisseurs of wine?
As with many other fruits, so with the papaw. Only those who grow it
themselves, who learn of the relative merits of the produce of different
trees, and who can time their acceptance of it from the tree, so that it
shall possess all its fleeting elements in the happy blending of full
maturity, can know how good and great papaw really is. The fruit of
some particular tree is of course not to be tolerated save as a
vegetable, and then what a desirable vegetable it is? It has a precise
and particular flavour, and texture most agreeable. And as a mere fruit
there are many more rich and luscious, and highly-flavoured; many that
provoke louder and more sincere acclamations of approval. But the papaw,
delicate and grateful, is more than a mere fruit. If we give credence to
all that scientific research has made known of it, we shall have to
concede that the papaw possesses social influences more potent than many
of the political devices of this socialistic age.
But there may be some who do not know that the humble papaw (CARICA
PAPYA) belongs to the passion-fruit family (PASSIFLORA) a technical title
bestowed on account of a fancied resemblance in the parts of the flower
to the instruments of Christ's sufferings and death. And it is said to
have received its generic name on account of its foliage somewhat
resembling that of the common fig. A great authority on the botany of
India suggested that it was originally introduced from the district of
Papaya, in Peru, and that "papaw" is merely a corruption of that name. The
tree is, as a rule, unbranched, and somewhat palm-like in form. Its great
leaves, often a foot and a half long, borne on smooth, cylindrical
stalks, are curiously cut into seven lobes, and the stem is hollow and
transversely partitioned with thin membranes.
One of the most remarkable characteristics of the papaw is that it is
polygamous--that is to say, there may be male and female and even
hermaphrodite flowers on the same plant. Commonly the plants are classed
as male and female. The males largely predominate. Many horticulturists
have sought by the selection of seeds and by artificial fertilisation to
control the sex of the plant so that the fruit-bearing females shall be
the more numerous, but in vain. Some, on the theory that the female
generally obtains a more vigorous initial start in life, and in very
infancy presents a more robust appearance, heroically weed out weak and
spindly seedlings with occasionally happy results. The mild Hindoo,
however, who has cultivated the papaw (or papai to adopt the Anglo-Indian
title) for centuries, and likewise wishes to avoid the cultivation of
unprofitable male plants, seeks by ceremonies to counteract the bias of
the plant in favour of masculine attributes. Without the instigation or
knowledge of man or boy, a maiden, pure and undefiled, takes a ripe
fruit from a tree at a certain phase of the moon, and plants the seed in
accordance with more or less elaborate ritual. The belief prevails that
these observances procure an overwhelming majority of the female
element. The problem of sex, which bewilders the faithless European, is
solved satisfactorily to the Hindoo by a virgin prayerful and pure.
On plants which have hitherto displayed only masculine characteristics,
small, pale yellow, sweetly-scented flowers on long, loosely-branched
axillary panicles, may appear partially or fully developed female organs
which result in fructification, and such fruit is ostentatiously
displayed. The male produces its fruit not as does the female, clinging
closely and compact to the stem, but dangling dangerously from the end
of the panicles--an example of witless paternal pride. This fruit of
monstrous birth does not as a rule develop to average dimensions, and it
is generally woodeny of texture and bitter as to flavour, but fully
developed as to seeds.
The true fruit is round, or oval, or elongated, sometimes pear-shaped,
and with flattened sides, due to mutual lateral pressure. As many as 250
individual fruits have been counted on a single tree at one and the same
time. The heaviest fruit within the ken of the writer weighed 8 lb. 11
oz. They hug the stem closely in compact single rows in progressive
stages, the lower tier ripe, the next uppermost nearly so, the
development decreasing consistently to the rudiments of flower-buds in
the crown of the tree. The leaves fall as the fruit grows, but there is
always a crown or umbrella to ward off the rays of the sun. When ripe,
the most approved variety is yellow. In the case of the female plant
growing out of the way of a male, the fruit is smaller in size, and
seedless or nearly so.
Another curious, if not unique point about this estimable plant is that
sometimes within the cavity of a perfect specimen will be found one or
two infant naked fruits, likewise apparently perfect. Occasionally these
abnormal productions are crude, unfashioned and deformed.
Ripened in ample light, with abundance of water, and in high
temperature, the fruit must not be torn from the tree "with forced
fingers rude," lest the abbreviated stalk pulls out a jagged plug,
leaving a hole for the untimely air to enter. The stalk must be
carefully cut, and the spice-exhaling fruit borne reverently and
immediately to the table. The rite is to be performed in the cool of the
morning, for the papaw is essentially a breakfast fruit, and then when
the knife slides into the buff-coloured flesh of a cheesy consistency,
minute colourless globules exude from the facets of the slices. These
glistening beads are emblems of perfection. Plentiful dark seeds adhere
to the anterior surface. Some take their papaw with the merest sensation
of salt, some with sugar and a drop or two of lime or lemon juice; some
with a few of the seeds, which have the flavour of nasturtium. The wise
eat it with silent praise. In certain obvious respects it has no equal.
It is so clean; it conveys a delicate perception of musk--sweet, not
florid; soft, soothing and singularly persuasive. It does not cloy the
palate, but rather seductively stimulates the appetite. Its effect is
immediately comforting, for to the stomach it is pleasant, wholesome,
and helpful. When you have eaten of a papaw in its prime, one that has
grown without check or hindrance, and has been removed from the tree
without bruise or blemish, you have within you pure, good and chaste
food, and you should be thankful and of a gladsome mind. Moreover, no
untoward effects arise from excess of appetite. If you be of the fair
sex your eyes may brighten on such diet, and your complexion become more
radiant. If a mere man you will be the manlier.
So much on account of the fruit. Sometimes the seeds are eaten as a
relish, or macerated in vinegar as a condiment, when they resemble
capers. The pale yellow male flowers, immersed in a solution of common
salt, are also used to give zest to the soiled appetite, the
combination of flavour being olive-like, piquant and grateful. The seeds
used as a thirst-quencher form component parts of a drink welcome to
fever patients. The papaw and the banana in conjunction form an
absolutely perfect diet. What the one lacks in nutritive or assimilative
qualities the other supplies. No other food, it is asserted is essential
to maintain a man in perfect health and vigour. Our fictitious appetites
may pine for wheaten bread, oatmeal, flesh, fish, eggs, and all manner
of vegetables but given the papaw and the banana, the rest are
superfluous. Where the banana grows the papaw flourishes. Each is
singular from the fact that it represents wholesome food long before
arrival at maturity.
Then as a medicine plant the papaw is of great renown. The peculiar
properties of the milky juice which exudes from every part of the plant
were noticed two hundred years ago. The active principle of the juice
known as papain, said to be capable of digesting two hundred times its
weight of fibrine, is used for many disorders and ailments, from
dyspepsia to ringworm and ichthyosis or fish-skin disease.
By common repute the papaw tree has the power of rendering tough meat
tender. Some say that it is but necessary to hang an old hen among the
broad leaves to restore to it the youth and freshness of a chicken. In
some parts of South America papaw juice is rubbed over meat, and is
said to change "apparent leather to tender and juicy steak." Other folks
envelop the meat in the leaves and obtain a similar effect. Science, to
ascertain the verity or otherwise of the popular belief applied certain
tests, the results of which demonstrated that all the favourable
allegations were founded on truth and fact. A commonplace experiment
was tried. A small piece of beef wrapped up in a papaw leaf during
twenty-four hours, after a short boiling became perfectly tender; a
similar piece wrapped in paper submitted to exactly similar conditions
and processes remained hard. Few facts are more firmly established than
that the milky juice softens--in other words hastens the decomposition
of--flesh. Further, the fruit in some countries is cooked as a vegetable
with meat, and in soups; it forms an ingredient in a popular sauce, and
is preserved in a variety of ways as a sweetmeat. Syrups and wines and
cordials made from the ripe fruit are expectorant, sedative and tonic.
Ropes are made from the bark of the tree. By its power of dissolving
stains the papaw has acquired the name of the melon bleach; the leaves,
and a portion of the fruit are steeped in water, and the treated water
is used in washing coloured clothing, especially black, the colours
being cleaned and held fast.
In the country in which it is supposed to be endemic it is believed that
if male animals graze under the papaw tree they become BLASE; but
science alleges that the roots and extracted juice possess aphrodisiac
properties, and who among us would not rather place credence upon this
particular fairy tale of science than the fairy tales of swarthy and
illiterate and possibly biassed gentlemen.
And as to its beauty-bestowing attributes, an admirer's word might be
quoted as a final note of praise--
"The strange and beautiful races of the Antilles astonish the eyes of
the traveller who sees them for the first time. It has been said that
they have taken their black, brown, and olive and yellow skin tints from
the satiny and bright-hued rinds of the fruit which surround them. If
they are to be believed, the mystery of their clean, clear complexion
and exquisite pulp-like flesh arises from the use of the papaw fruit as
a cosmetic. A slice of ripe fruit is rubbed over the skin, and is said
to dissolve spare flesh and remove every blemish. It is a toilet
requisite in use by the young and old, producing the most beautiful
specimens of the human race."
THE CONQUERING TREE
Inconsequent as Nature appears to be at times and given to whims,
fancies and contradictions, only those who study with attention her
moods may estimate how truthful and how sober she really is. She is
honest in all her purposes, and though changeful and gay in apparel
never cheap nor meretricious. A slim-shafted palm shooting through the
leafy mantle, and swaying airily a profuse mass of fiery red seeds,
distinctive in shape, may be the prototype of a flirt, but the
flirtation which arrests attention and bewitches the beholder is also
innoxious. There is nothing of the artificial about the display. The
colours flaunted are true, perfect and pure, however cunningly, however
boldly by their means admiration is challenged. The true lover knows too
that in her least conspicuous moods, Nature is as consistent and as
wonderful as when in her exuberance she carpets a continent with
flowers, and when all the forests of a country, at her bidding, don a
mantle of yellow.
To exaggerate any of her methods were needless. She is never ugly, for
in her seemingly forbidding moods she wears a smiling face. The smiles
may not be apparent to all, but they are there for those who expect and
look for them.
Let a mangrove swamp be taken as an illustration of an untoward aspect
of Nature, and see whether among the apparent confusion, and the mud and
slime and the unpleasant odours, there are not many proofs of
good humour, kindly disposition, real prettiness, and orderly and
systematic purpose.
On the deltas and banks of all the rivers and creeks of North Queensland
and on many of the more sheltered beaches, the mangrove flourishes, that
ambitious tree which performs an important function in the scheme of
Nature. Its botanical title reveals its special character--Rhizaphora.
Very diverse indeed are the means by which plants are distributed. While
some are borne, some fly and others float. The mangrove is maritime.
While still pendant from the pear-shaped fruit of the parent tree, the
seed, a spindle-shaped radicle, varying in length from a foot to 4 feet,
germinates--ready to form a plant immediately upon arrival at a suitable
locality. A sharp spike at the apex represents the embryo leaves ready
to unfold, while the roots spring from the opposite and slightly heavier
end. The weight is so nicely adjusted that the spindle floats
perpendicularly or nearly so, when owning a separate existence from the
parent tree, it drops into the water, and begins its remarkable career.
It has been suggested that the viviparity of the mangrove is a survival
of a very remote period in the development of the earth--that a mangrove
swamp represents an age when the earth was enveloped in clouds and mist;
and that with the gradual decrease in tepid aqueous vapour the
viviparous habit, then almost universal, was lost, except in the case of
this plant. Other plants, however, exhibit the characteristic. Notably
one of the handsomest of the local ferns (ASPLENIUM BULBIFERUM) which,
with motherly solicitude, detains its offspring until they are not only
fully developed but are strong and lusty. As the fronds die they incline
earthwards, each weary with the burden of a new and virile
generation--some of which float down stream to foreign parts, some create
a colony round the parent. This fern demands conditions similar to the
mangrove--water, heat and humidity--and might be quoted in support of
the theory which gives unique interest to a mangrove swamp.
Whole battalions of living mangrove radicles fall into the rivers during
February and March. Out at sea miles from the land you may cross the
sinuous ranks of the marine invaders--a disorderly, planless venture at
the mercy of the wind and waves. Myriads perish, hopeless, waterlogged
derelicts, never finding foothold nor resting-place. But thousands of
these scouts of vegetation live to fulfil the glorious purpose of
winning new lands, of increasing the area of continents. This arrogant
plant not only says to the ocean, "Hitherto shalt thou come, but no
further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed" but unostentatiously
wrests from it unwilling territory.
Plants like animals require "food convenient for them," certain
constituents of the soil, certain characteristics of environment, that
they may flourish and fulfil their purpose. This delights in conditions
that few tolerate--saline mud, ooze and frequent flooding by the salt
sea. Drifting into shallow water the sharp end of the spindly radicle
bores into the mud. At once slender but tough roots emerge in radiating
grapples, leaves unfold at the other extremity, and the plan of conquest
has begun. During the early period of its life there is nothing singular
in the growth of the plant In a few months, however, it sends out
arching adventitious roots, which on reaching the mud grasp it with
strong finger-like rootlets. These arching roots, too, send out from
their arches other roots that arch, and the arches of these similarly
repeat themselves, and so on, until the tree is underpinned and
supported and stayed by an elaborate and complicated system, which while
offering no resistance to the sweep of the seas, upholds the tree as no
solid trunk or stem could. Then from the plan of arches spring
offshoots, in time to become trees as great as the parent. Aerial roots
start a downward career from the overhanging branches, anchoring
themselves in the mud. Some young seedling drops and the pointed end
sticks deep in the mud, and grows forthwith, to possess arching and
aerial roots of its own, and to make confusion worse confounded. The
identity of the original founder of the grove is lost in the bewildering
labyrinth of its own arches, offshoots, and aerial roots, and of
independent trees to which it has given the mystery of life. One
floating radicle with its pent-up energy, having after weeks of drifting
and swaying this way and that to the slightest current and ripple,
grapples Mother Earth and makes a law to the ocean. Among the
interlacing roots seaweed, sodden driftwood and leaves lodge, sand
collects, and as the level of the floor of the ocean is raised the sea
retires, contributing by the flotsam and jetsam of each spring-tide to
its own inevitable conquest.
Not to one plant alone is the victory to be ascribed. As in the army
there are various and distinct branches of service, so in this ancient
and incessant strife between land and water, the vegetable invaders are
classified and have their appointed place and duties. Neither are all
the constituents of a mangrove swamp mangroves. In the first rank will
be found the hardiest and most highly specialised--RHIZOPHORA
MURCRONATA, next, BRUGUIERA GYMNORRHIZA (a plant of slightly more lowly
growth but prolific of arching and aerial roots); BRUGUIERA RHEEDI (red
or orange mangrove.) Some of the roots of the latter spread over the
surface and have vertical kinks. The roots and the accessories act as
natural groynes, causing the waves to swirl and to precipitate mud and
sand. BRUGUIERA PARVIFLORA and CERIOPS CANDOLLEANA assist in the general
scheme, the former depending upon abutments for security instead of
adventitious roots. Its radicles resemble pipe-stems, or as they lie
stranded on the beach, slightly curved and with the brown tapering calyx
tube attached, green snakes with pointed beads.
Surprising features are possessed by the tree known as SONNERATIA ALBA.
The roots send up a multitude of offshoots, resembling woodeny radishes,
some being forked, growing wrong end up. All the base of each tree is
set about with a confusion of points--a wonderful and perfect design for
the arrest and retention of debris and mud. Some of these obtrusive
roots are much developed, measuring 6 feet in height and about 4
in. diameter.
No less remarkable is the help that the white mangrove (AVICENNA
OFFICINALIS) affords in the conquest with its system of strainers.
Though different in many respects from the SONNERATIA, it too has erect,
obtrusive, respiratory shoots from the roots, slender in comparison,
resembling asparagus shoots or rake tines (called by some cobbler's
pegs) and which strain the sea, retaining light rubbish and assisting to
hold and consolidate it all. Each of the plants mentioned is equipped in
a more or less efficient manner for the special purpose of taking part
in the reclamation of land. In some the roots descend from the branches
to the mud where roots ought to grow; in others, roots ascend from the
mud to the upper air, where, ordinarily, roots have no sort of business.
Each possesses varying and distinct features well designed to aid and
abet the general purpose.
Other species of marine plants have their duty too. That which is known
as the river mangrove (AEGICERAS MAJUS)--which does not confine itself to
rivers--comes to sweeten the noisome exhalation of the mud, and with
its profuse white, orange-scented flowers, to invite the cheerful
presence of bees and butterflies. The looking-glass tree (HERITIERA
LITTORALIS), with its large, oval, glossy, silver-backed leaves and
boat-shaped fruit, stands with the river mangrove along the margin
farthest from the sea, not as a rearguard, but to perform the function
of making the locality the more acceptable to the presence of plants
which luxuriate in sweetness and solid earth. Another denizen of the
partially reclaimed area of the mangrove swamp is the "milky
mangrove," or river poison tree, alias "blind-your-eyes" (EXCAECARIA
AGALLOCHA). In India the sap of this tree is called tiger's milk. It
issues from the slightest incision of the bark, and is so volatile that
no one, however careful, can obtain even a small quantity without being
affected by it. There is an acrid, burning sensation in the throat,
inflamed eyes and headache, while a single drop falling into the eyes
will, it is believed, cause loss of sight. Yet a good caoutchouc may be
prepared from it, and it is applied with good effect to ulcerate sores,
and by the blacks of Queensland and New South Wales for the relief of
certain ulcerous and chronic diseases; while in Fiji the patient is
fumigated with the smoke of the burning wood. Several of the plants
produce more or less valuable woods. BRUGUIERA RHEEDI frequently grows
slender shafts, favoured by blacks for harpoon handles on account of
their weight and toughness. White mangrove provides a light, white tough
wood eminently adapted for the knees of boats. The seeds resemble broad
beans, and after long immersion in the sea will germinate lying naked
and uncovered on the scorching sand, stretching out rootlets in every
direction in search of suitable food, and expanding their leathery
primary leaves--even growing to the extent of several inches--while yet
owing no attachment to the soil. If it were not capable of surviving and
flourishing under conditions fatal to most plants it could not
contribute its quota to the formation of humus favourable to the
progress of the advancing hosts of tropical vegetation.
A weird and stealthy process is this invasion of the ocean, which leads
to the alteration and amendment of the surface of the globe. Here, may
be watched the very growth of land--land creeping silently, irresistibly
upon the sea, yet with a movement which may be calculated and registered
with exactitude. Having fulfilled its purpose, the mangrove suffers the
fate of the primitive and aboriginal. Tyrannous trees of over-topping
growth, which at first hesitatingly accepted its hospitality, crowd and
shove, compelling the hardy and courageous plant to further efforts to
win dominion from the ocean. So the pioneer advances, ever reclaiming
extended areas as the usurping jungle presses on its rear.
Nor must it be imagined that mangrove swamps are unproductive. Fish
traverse the intricacies of the arching roots, edible crabs burrow holes
in the mud, and in them await your coming, and more often than not
baffle your ingenuity to extricate them. Among other stalked-eyed
crustaceans is that with one red, shielding claw, absurdly large, and
which scuttles among the roots, making a defiant clicking noise--the
fiddle or soldier crab (GELASIMUS VOCANS). Oysters seal themselves to
the roots, and various sorts of shell-fish gather together--two or
three varieties appear to browse upon the leaves and bark of the
mangroves; some excavate galleries in the living trunks. The insidious
cobra does not wear any calcareous covering beyond the frail tiny
bivalves which guard the head--a scandalously small proportion of its
naked length--but lines its tunnels with the materials whence shell is
made, smooth and white as porcelain. How this delicate creature with
less of substance than an oyster--a mere worm of semi-transparent, stiff
slime--bores in hard wood along and across the grain, housing itself as
it proceeds, and never by any chance breaking in upon its neighbours,
though the whole of the trunk of the tree be honeycombed, savours of
another wonder. Authorities consider the bivalve shell too delicate and
frail to be employed in the capacity of a drill, and one investigator
has come to the conclusion that the rough fleshy parts of the animal,
probably the foot or mantle, acting as a rasp, forms the true boring
instrument. Thus, the skill of a worm in excavating tunnels in wood
puzzles scientists; and the cobra is certainly among the least
conspicuous of the denizens of a mangrove swamp, and perhaps far from
the most wonderful.
The most remarkable if not the strangest denizens of the spot are two
species of the big-eyed walking and climbing fish (PERIOPHTHALMUS
KOELREUTERI and P. AUSTRALIS) which ascend the roots of the mangrove by
the use of ventral and pectoral fins, jump and skip on the mud and over
the surface of the water and into their burrows with rabbit-like
alertness. They delight, too, in watery recesses under stones and
hollows in sodden wood. Inquisitive and most observant they might be
likened to Lilliputian seals, as they cling, a row of them, to a
partially submerged root, and peer at you, ready to whisk away at the
least sign of interference. They climb along the arching roots, the
better to reconnoitre your movements and to outwit attempts at capture.
Their eyes--in life, reflecting gems--are so placed that they command a
complete radius, and if you think to sneak upon them they dive from
their vantage points and skip with hasty flips and flops to another
arching root, which they ascend, and resume their observation. It must
not be assumed that the climbing fish--which seems to be more at home on
the surface of the water than below--climbs up among the branches. A foot
or so is about the limit of its upper wanderings.
Then, too, in what is generally regarded as a noisome, dismal, mangrove
swamp, birds of cheerful and pleasing character congregate. Several
honey-eaters, the little blue turtle dove, the barred-shouldered dove,
the tranquil dove, the nutmeg pigeon, the little bittern, the grey
sandpiper, the sordid kingfisher, the spotless egret, the blue heron,
the ibis--all and others frequent such places, and in their season,
butterflies come and go. In most of its aspects a mangrove swamp is not
only the scene of one of Natures most vigorous and determined processes,
but to those who look aright, a theatre of many wonders, a museum
teeming with objects of interest, a natural aviary of gladsome birds.
THE UMBRELLA-TREE
Having paid, in passing, respects to the most gorgeous tree of the
island, it would be sheer gracelessness to withhold a tribute to one of
the commonest, though ever novel and remarkable--the umbrella-tree. Less
conspicuous in its blooming than the flame-tree, it flourishes
everywhere--on the beaches with its roots awash at high tide; on the
rearguard of the mangroves, leaning on the white-flowered CALOPHYLLUMS;
on the steep hill-sides; on the borders of the jungle, and gripping
scorched rocks with naked roots.
While the flame-tree--few and confined to the beaches--flashes into
bloom--an improvident blaze of colour, without a single atoning green
leaf--the umbrella-tree charms for several months with a combination of
graceful foliage and a unique corollary of singular flowers.
From the centre of whorls of shapely glossy leaves radiate simple
racemes, 2 feet long, as thickly set with studs of dense heads of red
flowers as Aaron's rod with its magical buds. Crowned with several
crowns of varying numbers of rays, rarely as few as four, frequently
seven and nine and occasionally as many as twelve, each tree is a
distillery of nectar of crystal purity and inviting flavour. On every
ray there may be eighty red studs, each composed of twelve compact
flowers, and every flower drips limpid sweetness. For months this
unexcised distillation never ceases. For all the birds and dainty
butterflies and sober bees there is free abundance, and every puff of
wind scatters the surplusage with spendthrift profusion. Sparkling in
the sunbeams, dazzling white, red, orange, green, violet, the swelling
drops tremble from the red studs and fall in fragrant splashes as the
wanton wind brushes past or eager birds hastily alight on the swaying
rays. A rare baptism to stand beneath the tree for the cool sweet spray
to fall upon the upturned face, a baptism as pure as it is
unceremonious.
Red-collared lorikeets revel in the nectar, hustling the noisy
honey-eaters and the querulous sun-birds. The radiant blue butterfly sips
and is gone, or if it be his intent to pause, tightly folds his wings on
the instant of settling, and is transformed from a piece of living
jewellery to a brown mottled leaf caught edgeways among the red flowers.
The green and gold butterflies are for ever fluttering and quivering.
The complaining lorikeets peevishly nudge them off with red,
nectar-dripping bills, the honey-eaters disperse them with inconsiderate
wing sweeps; but the butterflies are not to be denied their share.
After a moment's airy flight they return to the feast, quivering with
eagerness. And so the weeks pass, the patient tree generating food far
beyond the daily needs of all who choose to take.
By a very moderate computation--such an orderly plan of bloom lends
itself to simple statistics--the average production of a fairly crowned
tree is over a gallon of nectar per day. Hundreds of trees so crowned
brighten all parts of the island with their red rays. And where the
nectar is, there will the sun-birds be gathered together--a sweeter
notion, truly, than carcases and eagles.
And this nectar, clear as dew-drops, sweet with an aftertaste of some
scented spice--a fragile pungency--was ever liqueur so purely compounded?
Drawn from untainted soil; filtered and purified; passed from one
delicate process to another, warmed during the day, cooled by night
airs, chastened by breezes which have all the virtue of whole Pacific
breadths; sublimated by the sun--all to what end, to be proffered to
birds and butterflies in ruddy goblets full to the brim.
THE GENUINE UPAS-TREE
Powerful as nutmeg pigeons are on the wing, some suffer lingering deaths
in consequence of a singular characteristic of one of the trees of the
jungle. Tall and graceful, with luxuriant glossy leaves, there is
nothing uncanny about the tree. In style and appearance it is the very
antithesis of "the upas-tree," upon which legendary lore cast unmerited
responsibility. Yet in certain respects it would be vain to enter upon
its defence. It is no myth. There is no exaggeration in the statement
that the character of the Queensland tree is actually murderous, and
that it counts its victims by the thousand every season. Of the great
host it destroys, all save a few may be very small and very feeble, and
from the human standpoint some of its death-dealing is perfectly
justifiable if not laudable. Not often, locally, is a bird destroyed,
but the fact that occasionally one has the ill-luck to fall foul of it
and to perish miserably in consequence, places the tree in the catalogue
of the remarkable. Neither spike nor poison is used nor any sensational
means of destruction but nevertheless the tree is sure and implacable in
its methods.
The seed-vessels of the Queensland Upas-tree, "Ahm-moo" of the blacks
(PISONIA BRUNONIANA), which are produced on spreading leafless panicles,
exude a remarkably viscid substance, approaching bird-lime in
consistency and evil effect. Sad is the fate of any bird which,
blundering in its flight, happens to strike against any of the many
traps which the tree in unconscious malignity hangs out on every side.
In such event the seed clings to the feathers, the wings become fixed to
the sides, the hapless bird falls to the ground, and as it struggles
heedlessly gathers more of the seeds, to which leaves and twigs adhere,
until by aggregation it is enclosed in a mass of vegetable debris as
firmly as a mummy in its cloths. Small birds as well as lusty pigeons,
spiders and all manner of insects; flies, bees, beetles, moths and
mosquitoes, as well as the seeds of other trees are ensnared. Spiders
are frequently seen sharing the fate of the flies, fast to seeds in the
humiliating posture in which Br'er Fox found Br'er Rabbit on the occasion
of the interview with the Tar Baby.
Insectivorous plants am common enough in Australia; but the "Ahm-moo,"
tree does not appear to make use of the carcases of its victims, though
it kills on an exceptionally extensive scale.
On some of the islands where the tree is plentiful numbers of pigeons
meet a dreary fate every season. The maturity of the seeds coincides
with the hatching out of the young, and inexperienced birds pay dearly
for their inexperience. The natural glutin is produced while the slim,
fluted, inch-long seeds are green, but its virtue remains even after the
whole panicle has withered and has fallen. So tenacious is it and
prompt, that should a panicle as it whirls downward touch the leaves of
lower branches of the parent, or of any neighbouring tree, it sticks and
becomes a pendant swaying trap in a new position. At first glance it is
not easy to identify the tree to which the obnoxious feature belongs.
The seeds occasion even dogs considerable distress, and might easily be
the cause of death to them. As the dog endeavours to remove them from
his feet and sides with his teeth, his muzzle is fouled, and he very
soon exhibits confusion and alarm, and rolling about in frenzied
attempts to free himself, gathers more and more of the seeds and
accumulated rubbish.
One is led to ponder upon the purpose of this provision--to endeavour,
if possible, to find its justification. Insects lured by the sweetness
of the exudation are callously entrapped, and why so? Do the seeds
require the presence of animal matter to ensure germination? In that
case the tree is indirectly carnivorous, and therefore decidedly
entitled to recognition among the curiosities of the island. Is the
glutin secreted to secure the wide dispersal of the seeds? If so, the
object is largely self-defeated, for seeds by the hundred cling as they
fall to the branches of the parent tree, and to those of its lowly
neighbours. Certainly some proportion of the seeds which reach the
ground must be borne hither and thither by the agency of that eternal
scratcher, the scrub fowl. But even a bird of such immensely
proportionate strength may be seriously troubled by them. A case in
point may be cited. A dog retrieving a scrub fowl, which had fallen in
the vicinity of an "Ahm-moo" tree, emerged with it entirely enveloped
with the seeds and adhering rubbish, and itself almost helpless from a
similar cause. In this happy chance the seeds were eventually widely
distributed. If the glutin is provided to prevent birds consuming the
kernels, then the object is perfectly served; otherwise no very
satisfactory reason is apparent why the tree should be invested with the
means of destroying even humble forms of life. Is this one of the "lost
chords" in the harmony of nature?
THE CREEPING PALM
Perhaps the most impressive feature of the jungle--that which takes fast
hold, clings most tenaciously, and leaves the most irritating
remembrances--is what is known as the lawyer cane or vine (CALAMUS). It
is a vegetable of tortuous ambitions, that defies you, that embarrasses
with attention, arrests your progress, occasionally envelops you in a
net work of bewildering, slender, and cruelly-armed tentacles, that
everywhere bristles with points, that curves back on itself, and makes
loops and wriggles; that springs from a thin, sprawling and helpless
beginning, and develops into almost miraculous lengths, and ramifies and
twists and turns in "verdurous glooms," ascends and descends, grovels
in the moist earth and among mouldy leaves, clasps with aerial rootlets
every possible support, and eventually clambers and climbs above the
tallest tree, twirling its armed tentacles round airy nothings. It
blossoms inconspicuously, and its fruit is as hard, tough and dry as an
argument on torts. Ordinary mortals call it a vine. Botanists describe
it as a prickly climbing palm, and no jungle is complete without it.
There are several varieties of this interesting plant, all more or less
of a grasping, clinging character, and each of vital importance in the
republic of vegetation.
Sometimes when it is severed with a sharp knife there flows from the
cane a fluid bright and limpid as a judge's summing up; occasionally it
is all as dry as dust and as sneezy, and its prickly leaf sheathes the
abode of that vexing insect which causes the scrub itch.
This plant produces lengths of cane similar in every respect to the
schoolmaster's weapon--familiar but immortal--varying in diameter from a
quarter of an inch to an inch and a half, and in length, as some assert,
to no less than 500 and 600 feet. Certainly 300 feet is not uncommon,
and one can readily concede an additional 100 feet, knowing the
extravagance of the remarkable palm under ordinary circumstances. And
the cane weaves and entangles the jungle, binds and links mighty trees
together, and with the co-operation of other clinging, and creeping, and
trailing plants--some massive as ship's cables, and some thin and fine as
fishing-lines--forms compact masses of vegetation to penetrate which
tracks must be cut yard by yard. When this disorderly conglomeration of
trees and saplings, vines, creepers, trailers and crawlers, complicated
and confused, has to be cleared, as civilisation demands the use of the
soil, sometimes a considerable area will remain upright, although every
connection with Mother Earth is severed, so interlaced and interwoven
and anchored are the vines with those clinging to trees yet uncut. Then,
in a moment, as some leading strand gives way, the whole mass
falls--smothered, bruised, and crushed--to be left for a month and more
before the fires destroy the faded relics of the erstwhile gloriously
rampant jungle. In all this the lawyer cane is the most aggressive and
hostile. Not only are there prickles on the 10-feet thongs, but the
leaves and leaf-sheaths are thickly beset. In one species the 6-feet-long
leaves bear upon the margins and upper surface long, thin, needle-like
points, black and glossy, and attaining a length Of 3 inches; the main
rib bears stout re-curved prickles, while the sheaths which envelop the
cane are densely covered with dark brown or black points 1 inch and more
long.
One cannot cut jungle and escape bloodshed, for the long tentacles of
the lawyer catch you unawares sooner or later, and then, for all are set
with double rows of re-curved points, do not endeavour to escape by
strife and resistance--it is no use pulling against those pricks--but by
subtlety and diplomacy. The more you pull, the worse for your skin and
clothes; but with tact you may become free, with naught but neat
scratches and regular rows of splinters. The points of the hooks to
which you have been attached anchor themselves deep in the skin, and
tear their way out and rip and rend your clothes, and your condition of
mind, body and estate, is all for the worse.
But the uses of the lawyer cane are many and various. Blacks employ it
as ropes, as stays for canoes, and, split into narrow threads and woven,
for baskets and fish-traps; and white men find it handy for all sorts of
purposes, from boat-painters and fenders to stock-whip and maul-handles.
Suppose a tree that a black wishes to climb presents difficulties low
down, he will procure a length of lawyer cane, partly biting and partly
breaking it off, if he lacks a cutting implement. Then he will make a
loop, so bruising and chewing the end that it becomes flexible and ties
almost as readily and quite as securely as rope. Ascending a
neighbouring tree, he will manoeuvre one end over a limb of that which
he wishes to climb, and slip it through the loop, and run it up until it
is fast. A cane 50 feet long, no thicker than one's little finger,
fastened to the upper branch of a tree, has on trial borne the weight of
three fairly-sized men. Thus tested, the black has no hesitation or
difficulty in rapidly ascending, and in lowering down young birds, or
eggs (wrapped in leaves), or whatsoever his quest.
Another cane-producing plant (FLAGELLARIA), though innocent of the means
of grappling, succeeds in overtopping tall trees and smothering them
with a mass of interwoven leafage. Each of its narrow leaves ends in a
spiral tendril, sensitive but tough, which entwines itself about other
leaves and twigs. Feeling their respective ways, the tender tips of
leaves of the one family touch and twist, and the grasp is for life.
Though not of such extravagant character as the lawyer vine, the
FLAGELLARIA seems to be endowed with perceptive faculty almost amounting
to instinct in selecting the shortest way toward the support necessary
for its plan of existence, which is to climb not to grovel. It spurns
the ground. New shoots spring from old rhizomes in the clearings, and
turn towards the nearest tree as though aware of its presence, as the
tendrils of a grape vine instinctively grope for the artificial support
provided for it. Progress along the ground is slow, but once within
reach, the shoot rears its head, stretches out a delicate finger-tip,
and clings with the grasp of desperation. A vigorous impulse thrills the
whole plant. It has found its purpose in life. With the concentration of
its energies, its development is rapid and merciless. Its host is
rapidly enveloped in entangling embraces, smothered with innumerable
clinging kisses.
MAUVE, GREEN AND GREY
An attempt to do justice by description to the rich and varied
vegetation of Dunk Island in these unlearned pages would bespeak an
idle, almost profane vanity. Yet the pleasure of revealing one or two of
the more conspicuous features cannot be forgone. In the term conspicuous
is included plants that attract general attention. Possibly the skilled
botanist might disregard obvious and pleasing effects, and find classic
joy in species and varieties unobtrusive if not obscure.
About 600 feet above sea-level, looking across the Family Group to the
great bulk of Hinchinbrook, there is an irregular precipice, half
concealed by the trees and plants that decorate its seams and crevices
and spring up about its cool and ever gloomy base.
During the greater part of the year water trickles down the grey face of
the rock in narrow gleaming bands, and wheresoever are the faintest
footholds there is a flower--mauve in its modesty. It is not common
enough to possess a familiar name, but botanists have called it BAEA
HYGROSCOPICA, for it is always found near water, invariably pure, cool,
fern-filtered mountain water. From the damp rock the roots of the plant,
matted and interwoven, may be peeled off in a thin layer, for the plant
is epiphytical, depending as much upon heat, moisture and light as on
any constituents of the soil for sustenance. When the season is
exceptionally dry, the thick, soft wrinkled leaves become parched and
shrivelled; but a shower restores their vigour and lovely, tender green,
and fresh flowers slightly resembling the violet, but borne on scapes 6
or 8 inches long, bloom within a few hours of the revivification of the
plant. In moist seasons the plant, true to its hygrometic character,
continuously blooms, and while it braves the hottest sun on the bare
places of the burning rock as long as its roots find moist spots, it
will also be found in the shade below, where the flowers are richer in
colour, more of purple than mauve, and, rarely, pure white. Generally
the plant depends upon others or cracks or crevices in rock for
foothold. It shares the grasp the spongy moss may take on the slippery
surface, or when the root, thin as whipcord, of a certain fig-tree has
crept across the face of the grey rock forming a ridge or barricade
against which decayed vegetation accumulates, there the BAEA flourishes,
displaying an indeterminate line of mauve flowers above oval, crimpled
leaves. Mauve, green and grey--the mauve of the Victorian age, the green
of the cowslip, the grey of glistering, weathering granite.
The whole of the rock face is a study. Grasping with greedy white talons
a piece of decaying wood is one of the prettiest of the more common
orchids, DENDROBIUM SMILIAE which produces short spikes of waxy flowers,
pink tipped with green; the creeping, sweet-scented, BULBOPHYLLUM
BAILEYI, with greenish-yellow flowers spotted with purple, and the
commonest of the dendrobiums (UNDULATUM) revel here.
The edge of the precipice looks over a tangle of jungle down upon the
top of a giant milkwood tree (ALSTONIA SCHOLARIS), taken possession of
by a colony of metallic starlings, whose hundreds of brown nests hang in
clusters from the topmost branches. By the perpetual shrieks and calls
of these most lively of birds a straight course may be steered through
the gloomy jungle to the tree, and thence to the beach, as a ship gains
her haven through a fog by the sound of unseen warning horns and
bell-surmounted rocks. On the trunk of this great tree may still be seen
the marks of stone tomahawks of the primitive inhabitants of the island.
There is none now to disturb and plunder the hasty birds.
STEALTHY MURDERERS
The fig-tree which aids the BAEA in its object of beautifying the
precipice is one of a very numerously represented species, which assumes
great variety of form, and produces fruit of varying quality. This
particular variety (FICUS CUNNINGHAMII) begins life as a parasite. A
thin slender shoot, tremulously weak, leans lightly on the base of some
tall tree, and finding agreeable conditions, clings and grows. A
harmless, tender, thong-like shoot it is--a helpless plant, that could
not stand alone or exist but for the hospitality of another of strength
and substance. Soon a second shoot, slight and frail, emerges near the
root, but at a different angle from its aspiring brother, and others as
delicate as the first follow, until the trunk of the host is sprawled
over by naked running shoots, grey-green in colour, crafty and
insidious. As they increase in age the shoots flatten on the under
surface and cross and recross. Wheresoever they touch they coalesce. The
trunk becomes enveloped in living lace--in a network, rather, living,
ever growing and irregular--the meshes of which gradually decrease in
dimension. All the while squeezing and causing decay, the meshes close
up. The trunk of the host is completely enclosed; it is the dying core
of a living cylinder, for the first shoots have long since crept up
among the branches, have expanded their leaves, and are busy sapping the
life-blood of the tree at all points. A greedy intractable, implacable
foe, it gives no quarter, but flourishes upon its dead or dying friend,
upon which in its youth it leaned delicately for support. Finally it
weaves its slender shoots among the topmost leaves of its victim, and
having outgrown its growth, flourishes on its decay.
This vegetable usurper produces immense crops of small purple figs, the
favourite food of many birds. So bountiful are its crops, and so much
are they appreciated, that one perceives, almost without reflection, its
due and proper place in the harmony of nature. To complete the cycle,
birds frequently, after eating the fruit, "strop" their beaks on the
bark of a neighbouring tree. Now and again a seed thus finds favourable
conditions for its germination, and then the parasite sends exploring
roots to the ground, forming as they descend intricate lace-work, while
shoots repeat a similar process as they climb further up the trunk and
among the branches. Then the fate of the host seems less cruel, for the
end is speedier.
Delicious fruit is produced by a somewhat similar fig (VALIDINERVIS)
growing in the locality and displaying, though not in such a cruel
manner, parasitical tendencies. Passing from green to orange with deep
red spots to rich purple, the fruit--about the size of an average
grape--indicates arrival at maturity by the exudation of a drop of nectar.
Clear as crystal, the nectar partially solidifies. Fragrant and
luscious, pendant from the polished fruit, this exuberant insignia of
perfection, this glittering drop of vital essence, attracts birds of all
degree. It is a liqueur that none can resist, and which seems, so noisy
and demonstrative do they all become, to have a highly exhilarating
effect on their nerves. Birds ordinarily mute are vociferous, and the
rowdy ones--the varied honey-eater as an example--losing all control of
their tongues, call and whistle in ecstasy. The best of the fig-tree's
life is given for the intoxication of unreflecting birds.
TREE GROG
Few of the forest trees are more picturesque than the paper-bark or
tea-tree (MELALEUCA LEUCADENDRON), the "Tee-doo" of the blacks. It is
of free and stately growth, the bark white, compacted of numerous sheets
as thin as tissue paper. When a great wind stripped the superficial
layers, exposing the reddish-brown epidermis, the whole foreground was
transfigured. All during the night alone in the house, I heard the great
trees complaining against the molestation of the wind, groaning in
strife and fright; but little had I thought that the violation they had
endured had been so coarse and lawless. The chaste trees had been
incontinently stripped of their decent white vestiture, leaving their
limbs naked and bare. In the daylight they still moaned, throwing their
almost leafless branches about despairingly, their flesh-tints--dingy
red--giving to the scene a strangely unfamiliar glow. This outrage was
one of the most uncivil of the wrong-doings of the storm wind "Leonta."
But within a week or so the trees assumed whiter than ever robes; pure
and stainless, the breeze had merely removed soiled linen. The picture
had been restored by the most ideal of all artists.
The blossoms of the melaleuca come in superabundance, pale yellow
spikes, odorous to excess. When the trees thus adorn themselves--and they
do so twice in the year in changeless fashion, in the fulness of the wet
season--the air is saturated with the odour as of treacle slightly
burnt. The island reeks of a vast sugar factory or distillery. Sips of
the balsamic syrup are free to all, and birds and insects rejoice and
are glad. A perpetual murmur and hum of satisfaction and industry haunt
the neighbourhood of the trees as accompaniment to the varied notes of
excitable birds. Chemists say that insects imprisoned in an atmosphere
of melaleuca oil become intoxicated. Insects and birds certainly are
boldly familiar and hilarious during the time that the trees offer their
feast of spiced honey.
Every tree is a fair, and all behave accordingly, chirping and
whistling, humming and buzzing, flitting and fluttering, in the
unrestrained gaiety of holiday and feast-day humour. Always an
impertinent, interfering rascal, the spangled drongo, under the
exhilarating influence of melaleuca nectar, degenerates into a
blusterer. He could not under any circumstances be a larrikin; but the
grateful stimulant affects his naturally high spirits, and he is more
frolicsome and boisterous than ever. The path between the coco-nuts to
the beach passes close to two of the biggest trees, and from each as I
strolled along, one sublime morning when the whole world was drenched
with whiffs, strong, sweet and spirity, a drongo, flushed with
excitement, flew down, bidding me begone in language that I am fully
persuaded was meant to provoke a breach of the peace. The saucy bullies,
the half-tipsy roysterers, tired of domineering over every participator
of the feast, dared to publicly flout me, defiantly sweeping with their
tails the air, as an Irishman, "blue mouldy for want of a bateing,"
sweeps the floor with his coat, and chattered and scolded in every tone
of elated bravado. The bibacious drongo can be as demure as any. When he
comes to dart among the eddying insects, glorying in the first cool
gleams of the sunshine, he will take his ease on a mango branch, make
jerky bows and flick the fine feathers of his tail, and "cheep" in
timorous accents. He is sober then, quite parsonified in demeanour; his
speech "all in the set phrase of peace," and would be scandalised by the
mere mention of melaleuca nectar.
A professor of physiology asserts that rabbits are very curious when
under the influence of liquor, and that a drunken kangaroo is brutally
aggressive. The drongo is merely pugnacious and noisy. Having heard of
the melancholy effects of over-indulgence in melaleuca nectar, I was not
at all disposed to judge of the misbehaviour harshly or to take personal
offence; for the drongo is a respectable bird, and the opportunities for
excess come but twice a year. Are not the tenses of intoxication
infinite?
This is not a prohibition district, and if the happy, unreflective bird
chooses to partake even to excess of the free offering of Nature, the
quintessence of the flowers of the tree distilled by sunshine, why
should not he? Am I the only one to be "recompensed by the sweetness
and satisfaction of this retreat"?
When the melaleuca blossoms, bees seem to work with quite feverish
haste; but the honey gained is dark in colour and has a certain pungent,
almost acid, flavour. Holding a frame of comb to the light, you see the
clear gold of the bloodwood and the tawny tints of the melaleuca as
erratically defined as geographical distinctions in a tinted map. Bees
keep it apart to indulge in it, peradventure, at revolutionary epochs.
Italian bees are docile, at least less pugnacious than other species.
Does not the dark spirituous honey inspire them with that degree of
courage which we English call Dutch?